


signal loss

by snickerdoobles



Series: Astrid Shepard [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, canon is but a distant memory at this point, garrus sucks at coping with things, me2 redux, not too gory but there is blood yall, physical injury, shepard's not great either but she's trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickerdoobles/pseuds/snickerdoobles
Summary: There's rumors floating around that Commander Shepard's risen from the dead, but Garrus Vakarian knows they're just that: rumors. After all, he was there.A re-imagining of ME2, in which Garrus was on the Normandy when it went down over Alchera. Tags and stuff will be updated as the fic progresses!





	1. Garrus

The Normandy was top of the line, state-of-the-art, bleeding edge of the Alliance’s technology. She was quick, quiet, and reliable. Her crew had no match; her pilot was the best in the fleet, her chief engineer the brightest, her commander the finest. When she slipped into silent running, there wasn’t a ship out there that could find her.

 

Well, until now.

 

Garrus scrambled through the hazy chaos, his visor struggling to adjust for the smoke hanging in the air. ‘Commander Shep-Shepard!’ He hurtled over a fallen storage crate, through a gap, around a bend, and slid to a stop in a relatively clear passage. His omnitool chirped at him, and he brought it up: it was a helpful alert that he had been disconnected from the extranet. Fabulous.

 

There was a stuttering groan of stressed metal behind him, and something slammed into Garrus’ spine, driving the air from his lungs and flinging him forward. He flew through the corridor at a sickeningly fast rate, the ground spinning away from underneath him and the ceiling rushing to meet him. The gravity must have failed, he realized belatedly. The universe spun around him in a blur that slowed and coalesced to reveal a glowering figure, their black armor tinted a garish crimson by the emergency lighting, the red stripe down their right arm almost glowing. Shepard. Ah. That must be who rammed him. A twisted piece of the Normandy was embedded where he had been standing. He flailed his arms, attempting to right himself; his inner ear instantly provided him with an unhelpful flood of nausea and regret.

 

‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?’ Shepard barked, stomping forward with the peculiar shuffling stride of someone wearing magnetic boots.

 

He choked back the rising tang of bile and flicked his mandibles feebly in a turian smile. ‘There you are! I was looking for you-’

 

Shepard grew level with Garrus, reached up, yanked him down by an ankle, and helped him engage his own magnetic boots. ‘There’s been a core breach,’ Shepard said flatly. ‘Alchera’s gravity grabbed us as soon as the core went offline. Propulsion is out, and whoever hit us is still prowling around out there.’ She wheeled around and started picking her way around the debris that had almost claimed his life.

 

He stumbled after her, struggling to maintain balance. Null-g exercises had never been his forte. ‘’Whoever hit us’? So we’ve been attacked? Is it the geth?’

 

She paused, knelt, and wrenched an emergency hatch open, gesturing him in. The elevators weren’t working, he supposed; he obediently descended through the hatch and down the access ladder to the deck below. Shepard hauled the hatch shut behind them, then started down herself, taking the ladder two rungs at a time. ‘No. From what little the bridge crew managed to report to me, it’s...something else.’

 

As soon as Garrus’ talons touched the deck, he realized the gravity was at least working in this area. ‘Repairs are going to be tricky, especially if whoever’s shooting at us doesn’t let up.’

 

‘Repairs?’ He was horrible at reading human voices, but he could identify the sting of incredulity in her tone as she tilted her head ‘Vakarian, we’re not making repairs. We’re abandoning ship.’

 

It took Garrus several long seconds to parse what Shepard had said. ‘Abandoning the Normandy? But--Shepard, she’s one of a kind! We-’

 

Shepard grabbed Garrus by the arm and started steering him towards the escape pods. ‘Ships can be rebuilt,’ she bit out, her vise-like grip on Garrus both uncomfortably tight and a familiar anchor to reality in the hellish chemical fog. ‘People can’t. You, of all people, should know this. I’d expect this from Tali, but _you_. You know better.’

 

‘Shepard-’ They were almost to the pods. Garrus twisted out of Shepard’s grasp, turned to face her, tried to say the million things on the tip of his tongue.

 

‘Don’t worry, Vakarian.’ The scar on her lip drew taut as a lopsided grin graced her face. ‘We’ll get through this. I have to go prep the emergency beacon. Get strapped in, and be nice to whoever winds up in here with you.’

 

‘I’m always nice,’ Garrus snorted as Shepard turned and vanished into the chaotic haze of the Normandy. Liara, who had already secured herself into a crash couch, echoed his incredulous snort with a meaningful cough of her own. ‘I’m always nice,’ he repeated, settling into a couch across from hers, wedging his bulk into the seat that was clearly not designed with a turian in mind, ‘to people who deserve it.’

 

It was only about five minutes later that the last two crewmembers, Kaiden and Chakwas, piled into the pod, dodging past the crewmembers that had strapped in before them. It was barely thirty seconds before the launch slammed him back into his crash couch, and for what seemed an eternity or so, Garrus couldn’t breathe as the acceleration crushed his lungs like a krogan sitting on his chest. The krogan rolled off, and the black edges accentuating his vision faded. He heard a thoughtful grunt, and he twisted his head around to see that Kaiden already had a screen pulled up on his omnitool. ‘Cockpit pod hasn’t launched yet,’ he said, his face lined with worry. ‘Joker must still be trying to pull her out of the gravity well.’

 

Adams spoke up, his elbow jostling Liara as he shifted in his seat. ‘Stubborn bastard. He’ll never be able to. The core’s offline.’

 

‘Shepard went after him,’ Kaiden replied. ‘She’ll get him out of there.’

 

Garrus pulled up his own omnitool, tapping into the pod’s sensors, and toggled back and forth between the ladar and visual. ‘I don’t recognize this silhouette.’

 

‘Whatever it is, It’s coming back around with weapons hot,’ Kaiden said, voice tight. ‘Shepard and Joker better launch soon.’

 

As if on cue, the attacking ship fired another round. A lance of golden fire bloomed forward and sliced through the Normandy, right in front of the CIC. Almost simultaneously, the cockpit escape pod launched, zipping away from the destruction, and Garrus let out a breath he hadn’t been conscious of holding.

 

‘Commander? Commander, come in,’ Kaiden called over the comm. ‘What’s your status?’ The comm blared a whine of static, and everyone in the pod winced at the squeal. Kaiden fumbled with his omnitool to cut the feed. ‘They’re jamming us.’

 

Garrus rolled his eyes. ‘Thanks, Alenko, we never would have guessed. I’ll see if I can work around it, I’ve got a few comm tricks up my sleeve.’

 

‘She’s falling apart,’ Adams said softly, staring out the viewport as the Normandy crumbled.

 

‘Ships can be rebuilt.’ As he echoed Shepard, Garrus tried not to think of how hollow the words sounded, especially to an engineer like Adams. He may not have been as technically skilled as Adams or Tali, but Garrus had a certain amount of...affection for the Normandy. She and Garrus had a lot in common. They both had a foot in both worlds; the Normandy, a human and turian design, Garrus, working for C-Sec and the Alliance. He’d spent a lot of time on the Normandy, and it was the closest he’d ever felt to belonging. And now she was disintegrating, ripped from under his feet by this unknown enemy.

 

‘Shit!’ yelped Adams, yanking at his restraints and straining closer to the viewport. ‘Who’s that?!’

 

‘What?’ Garrus jerked out of his reverie, his head automatically snapping around to peer out the viewport just in time to see a body careen by the pod. Well. Whoever that was, if they weren’t dead already, they soon would be. Poor bastard would probably burn up in Alchera’s atmosphere. He turned his attention back to his omnitool, pulling up Shepard’s suit comm on a back channel, almost sagging with relief when it didn’t spit feedback in his ear. ‘Commander,’ he called, trying to clear the static from the connection and home in on the cockpit pod. ‘Commander, do you copy?’

 

There were several seconds of labored breathing, then a muffled response. ‘ _Are the pods clear?_ ’

 

Garrus felt his mandibles twitch. An odd question. ‘Yes. Are you and Joker ok? I’d imagine you’re pretty rattled, the pod was really close to the explosion.’

 

Chakwas said something, Kaiden tried to relay it to Garrus over the sudden outburst of worried babbling from the other crewmembers, and Garrus lost the first part of Shepard’s reply in the momentary confusion. ‘ _-probably got some broken bones from the launch, he’s definitely going to have more from touchdown. Chakwas needs to treat him right away._ ’ Shepard paused, her breathing slowed slightly. ‘ _Garrus, I-_ ’

 

There was a burst of static, and Kaiden’s voice cut across Shepard. ‘Commander, what’s your status? Is Joker injured? Chakwas keeps asking-’

 

‘ _I-I don’t know, I think I broke his arm getting him into the pod._ ’

 

A sick feeling was writhing in the pit of Garrus’ stomach, and the image of the body tumbling by the pod’s viewport flashed through his mind unbidden. ‘Shepard...where are you?’

 

There was silence from her end. Ragged breathing. Finally, a small answer in a smaller voice. ‘ _I got spaced_.’

 

‘Can you maneuver? What’s your oxygen level at? If you can get back to the pods, Liara and I can set up an envelope, get you inside-’

 

‘ _Kaiden, I’m too far gone. My jets are fried, my biotics won’t get me back._ ’ Garrus could almost see the sad, small smile on her face. ‘ _Tell Anderson I’m sorry. Tell Hackett to rebuild the Normandy. Tell the Alliance not to ignore the Reapers_ .’ Her voice hitched. ‘ _Tell--tell Jeff it’s not his fault._ ’

 

‘Shepard, just try to-’

 

There was another flash of static, and Kaiden’s voice cut out of the call. Garrus could still hear him murmuring frantically from his seat; a little disorienting. But Garrus could also still hear Shepard’s breathing: at least he was still connected. ‘Shepard? Shepard, talk to me.’

It was a few seconds before she responded. ‘ _Garrus, please. Promise me something. Take care of yourself_.’

 

‘Commander-.’

 

‘ _Promi--rrus--atmosp--gghghhkkk-_ ’

 

‘Shepard? Shepard! You’re-you’re breaking up-’

 

The only response Garrus heard was static. His omnitool chirped again, deafening in contrast to the quiet popping of the white noise. He threw a cursory glance at the message flashing on the interface. _Signal Loss_. The krogan was back, crushing his chest, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t think clearly. Ripping at the straps, he scrabbled free of his crash couch, ignoring the automatic warnings the pod gave him to stay secured. He flailed through the null gravity of the pod, reaching for the viewport, staring out at Alchera; maybe if he got a line of sight on Shepard, he could re-establish the connection, maybe he could get her back, only for a few more seconds--

 

\--and then he saw the tiny sparkling trail of debris entering the atmosphere.

 

Just big enough to be a human body.

 

Turian culture was never big on public displays of emotion. Mourning lost loved ones was a private affair; shared only between you and your family and closest friends. Turians didn’t cry, not like humans or asari; grief was expressed vocally, either through conversation or distressed noises.

 

When Williams had died on Virmire, Garrus had been shocked at how open the human crew was with their grief. Even Shepard had done little to curb her emotional response. Garrus had found her weeping in the cockpit of the Mako, scrubbing at her face as she composed a letter to Williams’ family. She had given no excuse, made no apologies. Talked with him softly and sadly, heartache taking the edge out of her normally blade-sharp voice. Had she been a turian commander, Garrus would have lost any and all respect for her. As it was, she was human, and her customs were different; he may not understand them, but he wasn’t about to condemn her for them. Turians just didn’t do public bereavement. They just didn’t.

 

But now, as he stared at the fading light of Shepard’s body vaporizing in Alchera’s atmosphere, he found himself keening softly, almost subconsciously, his subvocals saturated with despair as he pressed his brow to the viewport’s reinforced glass. He could hardly hear himself above the static playing over his earpeice. The last echoes of Shepard’s life, hissing and crackling like the fire consuming her.

 

More automated alarms rang through the pod, and a hand grabbed his shoulder. ‘Garrus,’ said a voice, sadly, kindly; he barely recognized it as Liara’s. ‘Garrus, you need to get back in your crash couch.’

 

He may have responded. He wasn’t sure. The static seemed to be growing louder with each passing second, drowning everything else out.

 

Liara’s grip grew tighter, and he was vaguely aware of being dragged back to his seat. There were voices, asking questions, heavy with fear and concern and confusion, and Kaiden’s was the loudest, repeating Shepard’s name over and over, as if he could summon her back.

 

But he couldn’t. Nobody could. Williams was gone. The Normandy was gone. Pressley, half the crew, so many lives. Gone.

 

Shepard was gone.

 

Garrus wished he was gone, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS ALL B̶E̶R̶R̶I̶E̶S̶ ANGST
> 
> i promise things will get light hearted. eventually. and we will get to the sappy stuff. eventually.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	2. Shepard

The galaxy was spinning around Shepard--or was it her that was being spun? She was incredibly nauseous either way she looked at it, but her training wouldn’t allow her to be sick--god, she had hated those motion-sickness conditioning sessions but throwing up in her helmet would be such a bad idea right now--so she settled for a severe discomfort as she hurtled towards her death. Half of her mind was desperately searching for an escape route, running scenarios, bouncing ideas off every wall it could find; the other was quietly resigned to her fate.

A blare of static in her ear, a broken, choppy voice. It had the nasal tone and double resonance of a turian. Garrus. ‘Are the pods clear?’ As if the spinning wasn’t disorienting enough, she heard her own voice echo back to her through the feedback. It was hoarse with desperation, but surprisingly steady, given her current situation. She also heard Garrus respond in the affirmative, and the wave of relief she felt drowned out the rest of his reply. She took a shaky breath before continuing. ‘I need you to listen. Joker probably got some broken bones from the launch, he’s definitely going to have more from touchdown. Chakwas needs to treat him right away.’ The galaxy was spinning considerably less, now, and she could actually see the planet she was falling towards. ‘Garrus, I-’

Another squeal of feedback prefaced a new voice, thick with concern. Kaiden. And judging from the background noise, he had her on speaker with the entire pod. Fantastic. ‘Commander, what’s your status? Is Joker injured? Chakwas keeps asking-’ 

‘I-I think I broke his arm getting him into the pod.’ She had tried to be gentle. She wished she hadn’t. She wished she had just up and hauled him from his seat. But she had understood; the Normandy was more than a ship. She was home. So she had talked him down. She had been gentle. And now she was paying the price.

‘Shepard,’ came Garrus’ voice again, slowly, cautiously. He knew. ‘Where are you?’

She tried to think of how to word it, how to break it to her crew. How do you tell someone you’re going to die? She decided on presenting facts. ‘I got spaced.’

‘Can you maneuver? What’s your oxygen level at? If you can get back to the pods, Liara and I can set up an envelope, get you inside-’

‘Kaiden, I’m too far gone. My jets are fried, my biotics won’t get me back.’ Tears were bubbling at her eyes, ballooning into globes that flew around in the zero-g environment of her helmet. Goddammit, no. Not now. Not now. Don’t show weakness. ‘Tell Anderson I’m sorry. Tell Hackett to rebuild the Normandy. Tell the Alliance not to ignore the Reapers.’ A sob formed in her throat, and she barely choked it back down. Fuck. ‘Tell--tell Jeff it’s not his fault.’ 

She chinned her channel off. She couldn’t. She couldn’t console them. She couldn’t even do that before death. All she could do was wrap her arms around her head and-

‘Shepard? Shepard, talk to me.’ 

Shit. Shit. She’d forgotten about Garrus. He must have set up a separate comm channel, to get around the local jamming. Shit. She couldn’t close the line from here. ‘Garrus, I need you to promise me something.’ Taking a steadying breath, she reached up to wipe away her tears, biting back a curse when her hand smacked uselessly into her helmet’s visor. ‘Take care of yourself.’

‘Commander-’

‘Promise me, Garrus, I’m about to hit atmosphere, don’t make an ass out of yourself, tell the others the same-’

‘-sss-g--hhh--break--upppp--’

The faint whistle of air rushing past her finally reached her ears, and the half of her brain that had been working on escape routes finally snapped into focus. An asari matriarch, it told her excitedly, had reportedly been spaced by pirates. She had lived through atmospheric reentry by creating a barrier around herself to protect herself from the heat, and had used her biotics to slow her fall enough to survive. A story, a legend. Probably not even true. 

There was no way. There was no way she could do that. The g-forces would knock her cold, she wouldn’t be able to soften the impact, she probably wouldn’t even be able to maintain the barrier long enough to protect her from the intense temperatures. There was no way she could do that.

But it wouldn’t stop her from trying.

As she folded the biotic shield around herself, the signal cleared for a brief moment. Just a few seconds, maybe four or five, but long enough for her to hear an odd, shaky, warbling sound. Like a whining dog crossed with a dying bird. 

The sound of a turian crying.

‘Garrus, no, don’t,’ she said, but the static was back, and it was her only companion until the fire overtook her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was trying to figure out just how Shepard's body survives atmospheric reentry when i realized: oh yeah, she's a space wizard. not enough to keep her alive, but enough to keep her intact for Cerberus to rebuild.
> 
> anyways the first two chapters are the only ones that'll be happening at the same time, I think. the POV will skip around after this, but always Shepard and Garrus. (no Shepard without Vakarian and all that mushy stuff lol these doooooorks)
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	3. Garrus

Turians were notorious for being bad with non-turian faces, and Garrus was no exception. Turians and krogan, he could tell apart with ease. Asari were impossible; they had little to no genetic diversity, and it drove him insane, but it was at least a common problem turians shared with other species. Salarians were a little harder than krogans, but still manageable. Batarians had just enough similarities to be difficult, and just enough distinctive features to make differences discernible. But _humans_ . Humans were all so _alike_.

 

After the attack on the Citadel, humans had joined C-Sec in droves. There were many positions to be filled, and humanity had more than earned their place on the Citadel. They were adaptive, hard-working, smart, and damned hard to kill. There were hundreds, almost thousands of them in C-Sec now; Garrus struggled to keep track of who was who. The desk job he’d been saddled with when he rejoined, unfortunately, required it. He had to differentiate between the hundreds of humans he worked with daily. And it was absolute murder.

 

And C-Sec itself? In shambles, even more of a political snarl-up than it had been before. Even with the human members outnumbering the turians, salarians, and asari ten-to-one, Garrus saw his human coworkers get stonewalled at every turn by their non-human superiors. Himself, too. Word had gotten around that he’d thrown in his lot with the humans, flown on a human ship, worked with a human crew.

 

But he’d stuck with it. Powered through it, for six whole months He only occasionally experienced an odd flash of homesickness for the Normandy. Only occasionally missed her crew. Only occasionally thought of Shepard.

 

He was moving forward. That’s what Shepard wanted. _Take care of yourself, Garrus._

 

Take care of the mountain of paperwork, more like. He sifted through the multiple datapads on his desk, trying to pull up the file for the missing persons case he’d been assigned. The work itself was menial: just follow the paper trail and give the pertinent information to the field agent assigned to the case. Grunt work. But it was his grunt work, and he swore by the plates on his back that he’d get it done. Recovering the pad, he brought it up, tapped the portrait--

 

Static filled his ears and there was a sudden pressure in his chest, and for a solid five seconds, he stared blankly at the portrait before registering that it was not, in fact, Shepard’s face staring at him. The woman had the same high cheekbones, the same unruly red hair, but her skin was too pale, her lips too full, her pale blue eyes were too deeply set and did not glow with the amber fire he was accustomed to. The scars that marked Shepard’s face, the nick above her eye, the gash in her lip. The past she had. They weren’t on this woman’s face.

 

Spirits. It had been a few months since that had last happened. He took a shaky breath, running a talon over his crest. Occasionally, he would see Shepard out of the corner of his eye, from across a bar, in the reflection of a window. He would always stop breathing, feedback always took over his senses. It would always take him several seconds, sometimes a full minute, before he realized. Recognized. Remembered. Rationalized that he was seeing ghosts. He wondered if it would ever stop, someday.

 

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to Not-Shepard. Unlike the true Shepard, this woman, he _could_ help. He could find her, bring her back to her family. To hell with the grunt work, to hell with the idiot field agent he’d been bound to. He was going to find her, on his own.

 

Maybe then, the static would fade.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the missing persons case victim is supposed to look like default!femshep but i kinda suck at easter eggs
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	4. Shepard

It was the pain that brought her bubbling back to awareness. Blurry, fuzzy, bright stabs of pain, accompanied by a deeper, grinding ache at her very core.

 

She hovered in the twilight of semi-consciousness for an eternity, listening to the whispering roar of her heartbeat. She found that sound oddly surprising, but she decided not to ponder too long on her continued existence, favoring instead to float quietly in the grey between asleep and awake. Where had she been before this? All her brain could recall was...nothing. Not just nothing, but a capital ‘n’ Nothing. A fleeting thought tried to tie the word ‘death’ to the concept, but it just didn’t seem to stick.

 

But now she was out of the Nothing. The pain was what brought her back from the Nothing, and she struggled to remember how she got to the Nothing in the first place as the universe slowly coalesced around her. A table underneath her, firm, spongy; probably a medical gurney. The warm, clean, sickly smell of a hospital. Muffled, unfamiliar voices, garbled by her inattention. The familiar tug of an IV needle in her arm, ironically the one speck of her that wasn’t mired in pain.

 

So. A hospital. Which meant she was alive.

 

She forced her eyes open and immediately forced them back shut. Nope. Bad idea. Too much white. Not yet. Not ready for the light yet. Stay in the neutral, comfortable grey between the crushing Nothing and the burning light. Eyes shut for now. But the question still remained, nipping at her mind. Where was she? 

 

Trace her steps. She had to trace her steps. What was the last thing that she remembered? Ship on fire. Home. Her home was burning, falling to pieces. Reapers? No. Something new. Tumbling through vacuum. Someone yelling her name through static, sounds of distress. Bubble, bright blue, sparking. She’d made a biotic shield, then. Why? The fire. Oh, yes. Lots of fire and white noise and bone-crushing speed. And then the Nothing.

 

Now she was out of the Nothing. She didn’t put herself in this hospital bed, the muffled voices did. Someone else must have brought her here, treated her injuries. Alliance. Alliance came and got her. The static voice came and got her. Her crew, her friends. Her family. That’s who was in the light. She had to get back to them.

 

She had to get back.

 

She opened her mouth, tried to speak, tried to move. The pain exploded, consuming her like the fire from before, but she had to get back to her family, so she gritted her teeth and tried to sit up.  There was a voice nearby, panicked and rough with stress. Not Alliance. Not the static voice. Someone new. A pressure on her chest. Hand. A hand, pressing her back down into the table, back towards nothing. No. No no no. She didn’t want to go back there. No more of the Nothing. She slapped feebly at the hand, attempted to tell it to go away, to let her go back, but it came out as a slur of vowels and rattles and a jerk of her shoulder.

 

The voices finally gained clarity. ‘-not ready yet, give her the sedative-’

 

‘No,’ she croaked, managing to raise a hand towards the voice. Her eyes weren’t ready to focus yet, all she could see was a blur--

 

‘Shepard, don’t try to move--’

 

‘Fuck--you--’ She’d move if she damn well pleased. Fuck the voices. She was going home and there was nothing the voices could do to stop her--

 

A prick on her arm. Less than a stab, more than a pinch. Cold numbness spreading like mercury through her veins, weighing down her limbs, dragging her down with them. A monitor, presumably one hooked to her, slowed it’s beeping, and the universe began to melt. She melted too, right down into the table, losing herself to dreams of static and flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall ever had anesthesia for surgery?? it feels JUST like melting. it's some wild stuff.
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	5. Garrus

It wasn’t until after he resigned from C-Sec and taken up the mantle of the Archangel of Omega that he heard the rumors.

 

Well, ‘resigned from C-Sec’ wasn’t quite the right phrase. If anybody asked, he said he ‘resigned due to a difference of opinion’. In reality, after he had ignored regulations and solved the missing persons case by himself, Pallin had practically mummified him in red tape. He’d gotten the message. _Stay in line, do your job, keep your head down._ Three firefights and one drug ring later, Garrus had been given an ultimatum: resign, or be assigned parking duty on the Presidum.

 

He resigned, and booked passage for Omega the next day.

 

He wasn’t really sure, in the beginning, what he was going to do on Omega. It wasn’t like he could submit a resume to the security force. There were no law enforcers, only Aria’s thugs, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to join her ranks. As far as he knew, she was the root cause of the chaos infecting Omega, and if he was under her employ, there was no way he could move against her without her hearing about it.

 

For the first month, he wandered almost aimlessly around the station. Drifting from street corner to street corner, burning through his life savings to survive. He did his best to prevent muggings when he saw them, but for every criminal he stopped, three more would spring up in their place. He was getting nowhere, fast. He needed to take on the heart of the gangs, but he had no foothold or intel to work with.

 

And then he met Sidonis, and everything shifted.

 

After rescuing the hapless turian from a couple of Blood Pack mercs, he realized he’d been going about this the wrong way. Of course he couldn’t take on Omega alone. Nobody could. Hell, it could have just as easily been him at the receiving end of that Blood Pack beatdown. It had taken both him and Sidonis to beat back the thugs. It would take more than just one angry turian to cleanse Omega.

 

He needed a team.

 

But first, he needed to understand Omega. From the past month aboard the station he knew Omega was refreshingly free of red tape. The few rules were simple: don’t do anything to fuck over the station’s integrity, don’t fuck with the eezo production. And, of course, the cardinal rule: don’t fuck with Aria.

 

Simple, clean-cut rules that Garrus could follow to a tee. He’d spent enough time aboard the Citadel to understand the importance of structural integrity, and he’d had extensive training on breaching a room without compromising the hull. The training he’d received during C-Sec regarding hull breaches stuck vividly in his mind: the millions of ways a turian could die from exposure to hard vacuum kept him from taking any risks. He had no intention of dying like that. Like she had.

 

The eezo mines were a little trickier. The first week he’d been on Omega, he’d signed up for a tour of the facilities, trying to scout out potential battlegrounds. He’d been surprised at how many safety regulations were in place, and more than a little shocked that the workers weren’t emaciated slaves in manacles. But he’d done a little more digging, and discovered that the workers there were heavily underpaid and overworked, and severely lacking in any form of union representation. Not a problem he could easily solve with his gun. Given time, he might be able to scrape together enough funds and civilian support to effect some change.

 

And Aria...well. She was a tyrant. He would face her, eventually. But for now, he was content to let Aria sit on her throne. She had far too many resources, the station’s loyalty, and from what he understood, she was nearing Matriarch status. He couldn’t engage her, not yet. Not until he’d whittled away at the corruption infecting her kingdom, not until he’d earned the hearts of her people. Not until he was ready. Not until he had more people who had his six.

 

It took him two months more to form a squad. Angry veterans of the constant war raging within the station. Young mercenaries with a thirst for justice singing in their veins. Mothers of lost children, brothers of fallen siblings, daughters of murdered fathers. People tired of gangs running roughshod over their families and friends and neighbors. People willing to take up arms and put an end to it. People with scores to settle.

 

And settle scores they did. For six glorious, they carved their names into history. In fact, they had beaten the Blood Pack and Blue Suns back into the plague-ridden Gozu district on the two-year anniversary of the destruction of the Normandy. As the last vorcha scrambled over the barricade, Garrus wondered idly if the Blue Suns would finish them off, or if the mad salarian doctor he’d heard about would bring about their end. Either way, Aria wouldn’t allow them out, and they were going to die.

 

It wasn’t long after chasing them into the quarantine zone that the rumors started. Two weeks at the most.

 

The lone batarian on his squad, Erash, was the first to drop it around him. She was laughing uproariously with the rest of the squadmembers, her half-smoked cigar in serious danger of dropping from her mouth as she chuckled. ‘Yeah, some jackass down by the markets said that he saw her talking to T’Loak.’

 

The vorcha twins, Sensat and Vortash, hissed and slapped the table with their claws. ‘Sssssstupid! Human no sssssurvive that! Mussst be drunk! See thingsss not there!’

 

‘Human no survive what now?’ Garrus set his canteen down on the table, dropping heavily into a chair across from Butler.

 

She grinned, her jowls creasing strangely around her cigar. ‘Human no survive atmospheric reentry. Some damn fool swears up and down he saw Commander Shepard in Afterlife.’

 

The whine of static buzzed in his ears and there was a frigate suddenly parked on his chest. Vortash twitched a red eye his way, and the movement stopped the flashback dead in it’s tracks. ‘Hah-aha-what?’ he choked out, trying to cover his shaking mandibles by taking a swig from his canteen.

 

‘Probably some fuck that’s gotten plastic surgery, trying to impersonate her. Shit’d never fly on the Citadel, not with the security they’ve got now, but on Omega? All you gotta do is look and sound like her. Maybe punch some shit, be convincing.’ Erash shrugged, gnawing on her cigar thoughtfully. ‘Be a real shitstorm when it comes to light you’re not the real deal, though.’

 

‘Real shitstorm indeed,’ he growled into his drink. A real shitstorm. And he’d be at the center of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> garrus, you ding-dong, you can't take omega on by yourself. get yoself some friends. 
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	6. Shepard

There was a list of things she regretted, longer than she’d like. Not being fast enough or strong enough on Akuze to save her unit. Losing Jenkins. That drinking game with Wrex. The mess on Noveria. That _other_ drinking game with Wrex. Not being kinder to Ashley before she died. That _stupid fucking third_ drinking game she played with Wrex, he had _three livers,_ what the hell had she been thinking? And now, currently at the top of her list, putting off her visit to Archangel. The dossiers Cerberus had put together on her various recruits had not mentioned the hundreds of blood-thirsty maniacs that wanted him dead. Had she known, she would have come and gotten him sooner, instead of wasting time with Kasumi at that stupid party or listening to Zaeed fucking whine about revenge.

 

‘They’re really laying the pressure on this guy,’ rumbled Grunt, almost casually putting a bullet in the back of a fleeing freelancer. ‘First the wave of fodder to whittle down his ammo. Then the mechs, easy to patch back up and send back in again and again. And if they don’t get him, Blood Pack takes him down. Failing that, gunship. Solid plan of attack.’

 

‘Yes, Grunt, thank you,’ Shepard bit out, trying valiantly to ignore his very valid points.

 

‘Agree with Grunt’s assessment. Surprisingly insightful for krogan. Especially three-day-old krogan. Blood Pack, Eclipse, Blue Suns, all formidable opponents. Working apart, each a considerable, yet manageable threat. Working together?’ Mordin took a deep, hissing breath through his nose. ‘Almost unstoppable.’

 

‘ _Thank you_ , _Mordin,_ ’ she growled, tossing a hapless mercenary into another with a flick of her biotics, bowling them off the edge of the bridge and into the abyss surrounding the apartment building.

 

‘Certainly. Happy to help. Especially with simulations running on Normandy, need to kill time while tests finalize. Never did had patience to sit and wait for results.’ A ball of superheated plasma passed by Shepard’s left ear, close enough for the heat to agitate the still-healing scars web-worked across her face. It collided with a mercenary and splashed onto a nearby barrel; both went up in a column of fire and viscera. ‘One down.’

 

‘It almost makes you wonder how much they know about his defenses.’ There was a muffled scream and the wet crunch of someone’s bones breaking from behind Shepard, and she preferred not to give herself the mental image of what Grunt had just done. ‘As if they had a man on the inside.’

 

‘Grunt, can you focus on _killing_ the mercenaries instead of wondering about how they got tactical insight?’

 

‘Aheh eheh eheh heh.’ Another scream, another splattering crunch, followed by a hiss of distaste from Mordin.

 

It took them three more minutes to clear the building’s lower floor of mercenaries. Shepard rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and threw the two freelancers into the door they were hacking, then motioned at Mordin to complete the hack. ‘Grunt, keep watch. Kill anything that moves.’

 

‘ _You’re_ moving.’

 

‘Nobody likes a wise-ass, Grunt.’

 

He gave another stilted chuckle, planting himself in front of the now-open door. Shepard gave him an absent pat on the arm as she advanced past him, peering into the dark apartment. She still wasn't used to the constant stream of data scrolling through her vision from her new visor. She'd have to play with the datastream's settings later, tune it down somehow, or she'd be nursing a headache after every mission. ‘Archangel?’

 

There was a turian, hunkered by the far wall. His rifle was aimed, unsurprisingly, at the intruders streaming into his sniper nest. Used ration bar wrappers and empty stim packets littered the floor around his feet, and she managed to pick out 'elevated heartbeat' and 'slight tremor in hands' from her visor's datastream. He must be exhausted. She allowed her arms to drop, aiming her pistol at the floor, throwing a placating hand up. ‘Easy. Easy. We’re here to get you out.’

 

‘Who _are_ you?’

 

The voice that spat back at her was so very familiar, distorted as it may be by his helmet's vocalizer. Shepard tried not to squint as she struggled to place it. ‘I’m Commander Shepard-’

 

‘Like hell you are!’ The turian jerked the rifle at her, clearly agitated. ‘Shepard is dead!’

 

‘Yeah, I’m getting that a lot these days.’ She suddenly noticed that Mordin had his omnitool preloading an overload program, and she shook her head slightly at him. ‘What can I do to prove myself to you?’

 

The turian dropped the rifle, scrabbled at his helmet with shaky talons, ripped it off, and threw it to the floor, where it skittered across the tiles and bumped into her feet. ‘I saw Commander Shepard _die_ . I was _there_ ,’ said Garrus Vakarian, his eyes icy and sharp with rage, his voice twisted into an almost predatory snarl.

 

‘I- _Garrus_?’ Shepard found herself moving forward, dropping her pistol with a clatter to the floor. Her training screamed at her to pick it back up, but she ignored it in favor of questioning Garrus. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

 

Garrus drew his own pistol, aiming it shakily at her. ‘I could ask you the same thing, but I really don’t give a damn what you’re doing here. What I wanna know is _why you're impersonating Shepard._ ’ His teeth flashed between flared mandibles. God, he'd never seemed this menacing aboard the Normandy SR1, not even when she wrecked the Mako's suspension. 'What gives you the right to use her name and her face, you _absolute fucking coward?_ '

 

‘I’m-I’m not _impersonating--’_

 

‘SHEPARD,’ Grunt boomed from the door. ‘ECLIPSE IS MOVING IN!’

 

‘Shit,’ she hissed, scrambling to pick her pistol back up off the floor. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, Mordin yelped something, and suddenly, Garrus was barreling across the room towards her. Her reflexes took several seconds to kick in; by the time she got him in a stasis field, he had almost reached her. ‘What the _fuck_ , Vakarian! We’re here to get you out!’

 

‘Like I’d go with _you!_ ’ He was clearly struggling against the stasis, his mandibles shaking feverishly, like they always did when he was upset.

 

‘It’s _me_ , Vakarian, I’m not--’

 

‘Heavy mech has been deployed,’ Mordin yelled. ‘Shepard! Not much time! Need to act, _now!_ ’

 

She backed out of the room, Garrus still in stasis. ‘Lock him in, Mordin.’ She turned, addressing the turian directly. ‘Look. You don’t wanna go with us, fine, I get that. You don’t have to. But we’re sure as shit going to get you out of this mess you’ve gotten yourself in.’ Just before the door closed, she dropped the stasis, staring him in the eyes the entire time. ‘This is not what I meant by ‘take care of yourself’, Garrus.’

 

The door slammed shut, and the lock panel flickered red. ‘Encrypted. Several levels. By the time he can hack it thoroughly, mechs will be taken care of.’ Mordin cocked his head, scratched at his scars, his eyes half-lidded in deep thought. ‘Shepard. You are...unsettled. In there, not usual behavior. Dropped guard, dropped weapon entirely. Emotional response, unlike you. Indication of ties to Archangel. Ally, acquaintance, old friend?’

 

‘I don’t really know anymore,’ murmured Shepard vacantly, her hands automatically manipulating her pistol and loading a fresh thermal clip. ‘Let’s try to keep him alive so I can find out.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Vakarian, together at last! Unfortunately, Garrus is a ball of suspicion and anger. Will they ever make nice? (ofc they will, yall read the tags on this fic :P)
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	7. Garrus

 

Well, the shitstorm was here. And, like he predicted, he was in the center of it.

 

Garrus paced the room, hissing absently to himself, too rattled to try hacking the door again. Solus had done too well a job of securing it, and the static was too distracting for him to crack it just yet. But once he did, he was going to put an entire thermal clip’s worth of bullets in Not-Shepard, the fucking  _ liar _ . Wearing True-Shepard’s face like a mask, manipulating him, lying to him.

 

Or...was she?

 

He shook his head. No. There was no way True-Shepard could have survived. He had watched her body burn. The Alliance hadn’t even been able to recover her dogtags. There was nothing of her left. The person out there was a clone, a heavily modified con artist, a product of extensive plastic surgery, something. They were not Shepard. Not-Shepard.

 

But what they had said. Right before the door to his new prison slammed shut.  _ This is not what I meant _ . Impossible. No.  _ This is not what I meant by take care of yourself, Garrus.  _ How could Not-Shepard know?

 

His omnitool chirped. Incoming signal, comm request.

 

He ignored it in favor of more agitated pacing.  _ This is not what I meant _ , whispered Not-Shepard.  _ This is not what I meant _ .

 

‘What DID you mean?’ He wasn’t aware of yelling the question aloud until the echo came back to him, making him jump like a kicked varren. Shit. Fuck. He couldn’t think. The static, the  _ fucking static _ -

 

Another chirp, somehow more insistent this time. 

 

_ This is not what I meant. _

 

He flexed his talons. Paced a few more laps around the room, careful to stay away from the windows. Tried to clear the feedback from his senses, tried to ignore the crushing giant’s hand twisting his rib-plates-

 

Chirp.

 

‘Fuck,’ he growled, finally pulling up the omnitool and accepting the connection.

 

‘ _ FINALLY _ ,’ Not-Shepard yelled from the palm of his hand. ‘ _ WE COULD USE A LITTLE COVER FIRE DOWN HERE, ASSHOLE.’ _

 

The static overtook him and the giant seemed intent on squashing him into a pulp. ‘What-what did you mean?’

 

‘ _I MEAN THESE FUCKING MECHS ARE FUCKING SWARMING US-’_ They paused, and the distorted thump of a biotic discharge reverberated through the comm. ‘ _THESE FUCKING MECHS ARE FUCKING EVERYWHERE_ _AND I NEED YOU TO USE THAT FUCKING TRAVESTY OF A RIFLE TO KILL SOME OF THEM.’_ Not-Shepard certainly had True-Shepard’s way with profanity. ‘ _TODAY WOULD BE NICE.’_

 

‘No, no. No. What did you mean when you d-when you-’

 

Crackling silence, punctuated by distant gunshots and the sizzling thud of biotics. He still couldn’t breathe, could barely hear.

 

‘ _ Garrus, I need you to thin out these mechs. Mordin’s not built for long engagements, and Grunt is still three fucking days old. _ ’ They sighed, a breathy rattle made tinny by his omnitool’s speaker. ‘ _ Help me take out these mechs, and I’ll answer any question you have for me. And you better be prepared to answer some of mine, too, because I would like to know how you got yourself waist-deep in this shit.’ _

 

‘I-three days old?’

 

‘ _ Long story. Are you going to help me shoot these fuckers or what. _ ’

 

‘Fine.’ Even if Not-Shepard wasn’t telling the truth, he needed them and their mismatched squad if he was going to get out of this apartment building alive. ‘But I’m saving one of these bullets for you.’   
  


The battle itself was a blur to Garrus. Solus and the krogan, despite Not-Shepard’s assertions, were more than capable of holding their own. Not-Shepard...well, they must have studied True-Shepard’s tactics. And penchant for bullrushing enemy combatants and throwing them like ragdolls with her biotics. Maybe they actually were...no.  _ No, Garrus. Don’t get your hopes up. _

 

There was a muffled thud, and alarms started blaring. He checked his omnitool, hoping beyond hope--shit. Blood Pack had blown the bulkheads behind the apartment building, and were going to advance through the back. ‘ _ The fuck was that?’  _ Garrus threw a glance through his scope. Not-Shepard was staring up at him from their perch atop a pile of dismembered heavy mech parts, their omnitool held up to an ear. ‘ _ Bomb? _ ’

 

‘They’ve blown the bulkhead, there are emergency shutters-’

 

‘ _ Send me a map. Now.’  _ Garrus pulled up the schematic for the apartment building, prepared to send it to Not-Shepard, then hesitated, his talon hovering over the ‘send’ button. The only layout that he had was his plan for traps and pitfalls. If he sent the map, Not-Shepard would know exactly where all his alarms, sensors, traps, and ammo caches were. ‘ _ Garrus, I would say we’re wasting daylight, but there is no fucking sun in this hellhole, so we don’t even have daylight to waste. Map. NOW. _ ’

 

He sent the map, and watched through his scope as Not-Shepard pulled up the file, jabbed a finger at Solus and the krogan, waving them towards the back of the complex. They disappeared under the balcony, out of his scope’s field of view. 

 

Blowing out a sigh, he huddled up behind the wall, careful to duck his head down so a sniper wouldn’t catch him unawares. Not-Shepard was clearly invested in keeping him alive, but why? Why was Solus with her? Last he’d heard, he was in the Gozu district, happily incinerating Blue Suns grunts stupid enough to try and con him. Why was she even here? Why...why was his head so heavy...when was the last time he’d slept? Two? Three days ago? He’d had so many stims...maybe he could just...close his eyes for a few seconds...

 

He didn’t even register that he’d nodded off until Not-Shepard was screaming at him over the comm, their voice saturated with panic. ‘ _ GARRUS YOU NEED TO MOVE,  _ NOW!’

 

Adrenaline flooded his veins, jerking him from the twilight of his half-sleep and slamming him into reality. ‘Wh-the door-’

 

‘ _ SOLUS DROPPED THE ENCRYPTION REMOTELY, YOU HAVE A GUNSHIP INCOMING-’ _

 

He moved, but not fast enough. A floodlight caught him in a wash of white, there was a roar, a blinding, crushing light--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, garrus, yikes
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	8. Shepard

Astrid Shepard was not a particularly religious woman. Hard to be, when you grew up in the Tenth Street Reds. Your doctrine was survival, you worshiped the pantheon of orphans, vagabonds, and urchins that clawed their way to the top, and you made tithes to the thugs that protected you and fed you. After enlisting, she had turned her back on the Reds and made attempts to find God; after Akuze, she had settled for believing that if He existed, He was not listening.

 

But now she found herself begging Him. Just this once. Just this once, let her be fast enough. Let Garrus move quickly enough. Just this once. Just this once.

 

She charged through the apartment, up the stairs, into the room--saw the fires--saw the body--saw the pool of indigo blood spreading from her friend’s slumped form--

 

The gunship careened into view through the far window, and Shepard barely heard herself barking orders to Mordin and Grunt, barely saw the flash of the gunship’s shields failing through the tunnel vision, barely felt herself summon every last iota of her biotics and pour every last ounce of her rage into tearing the fuckers to shreds. The gunship glowed bright blue, enveloped in biotic fire; then disappeared in a intense, searing wash of flames and light that momentarily blinded her. 

 

She came to her senses, blinking furiously as various bits and pieces of the universe clicked back into their proper places. The odor of burning metal and plastics; the splotches of light, burned into her retinas from the explosion; her implant, overheating from her exertion, blazing at the base of her skull; the congealing, shimmering blue puddle of blood, the smell metallic and cloying; Garrus’ life soaking between her armor plates, pooling around her knees--

 

Oh. She was on her knees, next to Garrus. How did she get here? Why was her omnitool engaged already? She tried to roll him over, tried to see the damage, tried to believe in the empty prayers burning in her heart--there! A flicker of light in his eyes, a rattling gasp. She felt her mouth forming words, but she didn’t hear them. Too busy pulling up medigel--fuck, it wasn’t dextro-safe--

 

A gentle hand on her shoulder, the orange flash of an omnitool. Her eyes managed to focus on Mordin, administering turian medigel. Of course. He was a doctor, he’d know what to do, how to help. How could she forget?

 

‘ _ ETA is 5 minutes _ ,’ came Joker’s voice. ‘ _ Chakwas is on hand to patch whoever it is up. How bad is it? Did our baby krogan bite off more than his massive mouth can chew?’ _

 

What? When had she called Joker? ‘Copy that.’ She could hear her own voice again, and it seemed steady enough, albeit hoarse and rough. Progress. 

 

There was another rattle, and she could see Garrus trying to move. Shepard’s concern turned to exasperation. Of course he was trying to move, stubborn bastard. Her irritation was mirrored on Mordin’s features as the salarian placed a steadying hand on Garrus’ shoulder. ‘No, no, lay still, must not move, medigel has not set, severe damage to throat and mandibles, could be irreversible if-’

 

Shepard saw her hand reach towards Garrus, saw it pat his shoulder, heard Mordin click his tongue in distress as Garrus continued his attempts to move. ‘Stay still. Stay still. Don’t you die on me.’ Her movements felt odd, alien, not her own, as if she were watching events unfold with no control over her actions.

 

‘Mercs are in retreat. They probably think he’s dead.’ Grunt’s voice rumbled in her chest. ‘They’re probably right.’

 

She spat something in response. It tasted harsh and bitter and poisonous, and it had enough vitriol in it to make Grunt shuffle back and avert his eyes. There was a choking gasp from Garrus, and she returned her attention to him; oddly, there was a gleam in his eye that was usually associated with laughter. He was laughing. ‘Stop laughing and lay still, you stupid, stubborn, asshole son-of-a-bitch.’

 

The warbling stutter of an approaching shuttle engine filled her ears. Had it already been five minutes? ‘Mordin, is he safe to move yet?’

 

The salarian shook his head emphatically. ‘Dr. Chakwas must stabilize patient further before moving, would not suggest moving in this state, not until thoroughly checked for internal injuries-’

 

‘-hhhhgggghg-’ Garrus gurgled through a mouthful of blood, grabbing at Shepard’s arm. She hardly noticed the splatter of sticky, warm blood against her face as he spluttered and coughed.  ‘-ggghghh whhaat ddjhooo meeeann-’

 

She blinked. ‘What?’

 

‘Commander, must ask you not to encourage any further speaking, major damage to face and throat, not conducive--’

 

‘Ggggwwwggwwwhat meeaaagggghttt--’

 

Suddenly, she realized. ‘What did I mean by ‘take care of yourself’?’

 

He nodded feebly, eliciting another whine of distress from Mordin.

 

A wave of bittersweet sadness and frustration washed over Shepard. ‘I meant keep out of trouble. I meant don’t go off by yourself and try to save the galaxy by blowing shit up. I meant  _ take care of yourself _ .’ She blinked back tears, unbidden and unwanted. They refused to recede, and the nagging worry that her body was not responding to her will tripled, quadrupled. ‘This? This isn’t taking care of yourself, Garrus. Taking on the gangs of Omega, even with a squad to back you up? That’s suicide.’ 

 

Garrus’ shoulder jerked, his eyes grew unfocused and dull, his face went slack, his grip failed. Mordin bodily shoved Shepard away from him. ‘Losing him! Shepard, need you to brief Dr.Chakwas on patient's condition, prepare her! Go, go  _ now! _ ’

 

No, Shepard was not a religious woman. And her faith, nebulous as it was, had not changed a bit in the past ten minutes. But she was still praying as she stumbled down the stairs, legs numb and arms refusing to behave. She found herself pleading with the God she barely had faith in as the shuttle settled to the ground, still begging for Garrus’ life as she struggled to find the words to prepare Chakwas for what she would find upstairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my GOD, garrus, stay still, you are literally d y i n g
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	9. Garrus

The first time he surfaced back to consciousness, there was a very familiar, very concerned face hovering above him. Shepard. The  _ real  _ Shepard. The Grim Reaper to his Archangel. She was murmuring something to him, something he couldn’t quite hear.

 

Something rumbled, close enough to rattle his plates. The Look crossed her face, and she turned and spat, ‘Say that again, and you’re walking back to the Normandy.’ Heh. He felt sorry for whoever was at the end of the Look. She saved the Look for idiots who second-guessed her orders. 

 

He tried to ask her what she meant above Alchera, but her response was long-winded and garbled. Shit, were those tears? There was certainly something leaking from her eyes, dripping down into the blue paint covering her face. It almost looked like colony markings, like his markings, but the blue was too deep, the pattern too irregular. Almost like the splatter marks he had to memorize for his C-Sec Investigations evaluation. Almost like...

 

Oh. No, not paint. Blood. His blood, all over Shepard’s face. He tried to move his talon, to wipe it from her cheek, but a hot dagger of pain lanced through his shoulder and stabbed up through his face, and he blacked out.

 

The second time he woke up, they were passing through an airlock, and he could hear Shepard’s voice clearly this time. ‘What does it  _ look like, _ Lawson?! Of  _ course  _ he needs medical attention! Fucking MOVE!’ 

 

Another voice sounded from behind his head, it’s patter and tone that of a salarian. There was a salarian, he did remember that. Melenis? Spirits, had Melenis actually made it? He’d been so sure that ATLAS made her a green smear on the ground, but he supposed it was possible. ‘Extensive damage to entire right half of face. Operative Lawson, know your work with cybernetics, wonder if you have experience with turian patients? No, no, a Cerberus operative, humans first, humans only. Still, might need your expertise.’

 

‘Holy shit, Commander,’ said a familiar voice from somewhere off to his left. Weaver? Nope, not Weaver. Weaver died when he’d been ripped in two by a Blood Pack grunt. The Blood Pack grunt died when Weaver’s grenade went off. Poetic.

 

‘GET US OUT OF HERE, MOREAU,’ snarled Shepard, and he almost laughed. No way this was Shepard, she never called the Normandy’s pilot by anything other than his nickname. This was Not-Shepard.

 

‘Can’t, docks won’t release the clamps. Something about not leaving until checking in with Aria--’

 

Something suddenly spasmed in Garrus’ jaw, and he let out a strangled hiss as his mandibles locked painfully. ‘Garrus, if you can hear me, try not to move. You’ve taken quite the hit, and you need to stay still. Blink once if you understand, Garrus.’

 

He could parse the words, and he understood what she was saying to him, but Garrus couldn’t understand why Karin Chakwas was here, of all people. Unless it wasn’t Chakwas at all. Monteague sounded a bunch like Chakwas. Maybe they’d survived. He’d never found their body, after all, just the mangled remains of their helmet. 

 

‘Commander, the Illusive Man--’

 

‘CHAMBERS,  _ MOVE! _ ’ barked Not-Shepard.

 

He tried to raise his head, tried to see who she was yelling at, but the dagger lodged itself firmly into his trachea again, and he passed out again.

 

The third time. Oh, the third time. He was getting really sick of waking up by now, especially since this time he didn’t seem to be able to breathe. Not that he had been breathing well before, but now it just wasn’t happening.

 

‘Trachea collapsing,’ snapped the salarian voice from before. Wait. Mierin didn’t have any medical training. She was an explosives expert. Solus? Probably. Made sense. Made more sense than most things that had happened in the past...millennia? How long had passed since Not-Shepard had shown up on his scope? It had to be an eon or two. Ten billion years, at the very least. ‘Sedation necessary, otherwise tracheotomy problematic.’

 

A needle slipped into the thinner hide of the hollow of his throat, a flood of freezing, burning nothing spreading from the contact. As the universe spun away, he wondered if this was how the real Shepard had felt when she fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS looks like garrus wasn't even paying attention to Shepard's speech last chapter
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	10. Shepard

‘Commander! The Illusive Man would like to speak with you.’

 

Chambers really picked the worst moments. All Shepard wanted in the galaxy was to change out of her armor, rinse the blood and grime from her body, and wait for Garrus to come out of surgery, but Chambers effectively put a bullet right between her plan’s eyes with that simple sentence. ‘Can I at least change out of my armor first?’

 

‘It seemed urgent.’ Through the fog of post-battle fatigue and monumental concern for Garrus, it was hard to tell if the apology in Chambers’ voice was genuine or fabricated. ‘He pinged us about an hour ago, when you were...extracting Archangel.’

 

Shepard bit down on the glove of her right hand, tugging it off with her teeth. The glove was soaked through with Garrus’ blood, staining the skin beneath a bright blue. Chambers’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the sight: it was hard for Shepard to remember, but most of her new crew had never seen any serious action. ‘Fine. But clear my schedule. As soon as I’m done with him, I’m unavailable, you read me?’

 

‘But Commander, Miranda’s briefing-’

 

‘Will have to fucking wait,’ Shepard ground out, striding towards the armory, trying her best not to stomp like a petulant child. She could at least drop off her weapons on her way to the comm.

 

‘Aye, Commander,’ replied Chambers, only a hint of unhappiness tingeing her voice. 

 

Four minutes later, Shepard was in Communications, perched on a crate she dragged in from the armory, and shucking her armor off ungracefully. A growing pile of ceramic plating lay at her feet, barely inside the ring of sensors piping her image to the Illusive Man.

 

‘Do you really need to do that now?’

 

‘Would have done it beforehand, but Chambers said you were getting antsy.’ She looked up from unlacing her boots, clamping down on the urge to flip him the double bird. ‘And it’s not like I’m naked under all this. So. What couldn’t possibly wait until I got a decent shower and the news of whether or not my best friend is going to survive his injuries?’

 

The Illusive Man took a sip from his tumbler, his cigarette dangerously close to dropping into the liquid inside. ‘I suppose you’re angry with us for not telling you his identity. Please understand, we had no idea-’

 

Shepard threw up a hand, trying not to wince at the sight of turian blood caked under her fingernails. ‘Cut to the chase. The faster you spit out whatever you want to say, the faster I can get back to the medical bay.’

 

‘Very well.’ He took a drag from his cigarette and blew out, the smoke curling up from his lips and out of the effective sensor range. ‘We have intelligence that the Collectors will make a move on Horizon.’

 

Her body and memories may have been intact, but sometimes her mind seemed halfway between dead and live. She scrambled to gather as much about Horizon as she could remember. ‘Horizon…?’

 

He must have seen her confusion. ‘A colony on the edge of the Terminus. The Alliance has no formal presence there, as it is outside their space, but intel suggests there may be an Alliance operative onsite installing a GARDIAN cannon.’ Another drag from his cigarette, more smoke floating lazily up out of sight. ‘Lawson reports that Solus has finished a prototype for a defense against the Collector’s swarms. I want you and your team to determine if there is a way to install a wide-spread defense for the colony.’

 

‘You want to use Horizon as guinea pigs,’ Shepard replied flatly, grabbing a bottle of cleaning fluid and a rag, also stolen from the armory. ‘You want us to install the defenses and retreat to a safe distance and watch to see if they work. You want to use colonists as lab rats. Like  _ Akuze _ .’

 

A small grimace flitted across his face. ‘No, Shepard, believe it or not, we have Horizon’s best interests at heart. We want you to-’

 

‘I’ll go,’ she ground out, scrubbing at a patch of muck marring her breastplate. ‘But not for you. For Horizon. And if the defenses don’t work, I’m staying to defend the colony myself.’

 

‘I can’t allow that-’

 

‘Oh, I know you can’t.’ She stood, stretching her arms, grimacing at the crack of joints echoing through the briefing room. ‘But you can’t stop me, either.’

 

‘Shepard-’

 

‘Bye,’ she said, slamming her fist down on the ‘end call’ button of the QEC’s interface. 

 

She’d probably pay for that, she realized as she gathered her armor and left Communications. But she’d spent four weeks being pulled around on Cerberus’ leash, and it was about time she start pulling back. 

 

She had the beginnings of a team: A former STG agent with a knack for destruction. An ex-convict with the biotic power of an asari commando. A master thief, a grumpy old mercenary, a three-day old krogan. No, wait, it was past 1700, he was four days old now. 

 

And, if she was lucky, she also had a turian smartass with a way with guns.

 

If she played her cards right, maybe she could recruit this Alliance agent as well. The more people she had on her team, the better chance they stood at taking the Normandy from Cerberus hands.

 

Shepard threw a cursory glance at Jacob as she dumped her armor unceremoniously into her gear locker. He had fieldstripped her rifle, and was meticulously cleaning the barrel out. She mentally added him to the prospective list of team members. Of all the Cerberus agents aboard, he was the most susceptible to flipping. Slamming the locker closed, she wondered idly if she could turn Lawson as well. No. That woman was impossible to approach and madly in love with the organization. There was no way she could flip Lawson. Donnelly and Daniels, down in Engineering, she could definitely bring them into the fold. Gardner, perhaps, but he’d have to seriously improve his cooking game if she was going to consider him. Joker and Chakwas were already firmly in her camp--

 

Chakwas. Who was working on Garrus.

 

Her heart clenched in her chest. ‘EDI, can you give me a status update on Garrus?’

 

There was a flash of blue light as EDI’s interface sprang to life. ‘Mister Vakarian is stable, but still unconscious. Shall I contact Dr. Chakwas or Dr. Solus for a more detailed report?’

 

The universe spun for a fraction of a second, making her dizzy with relief. ‘No. No, that’s fine. Can you alert me when he wakes up?’

 

‘Certainly. Is there anything else I can do?’

 

‘No. Thank you.’ 

 

‘Logging you out, Shepard.’

 

Garrus was going to make it through. Shepard sighed, resting her forehead against the cool metal of her locker. One more potential ally for Team ‘Fuck The Collectors’. It was all coming together. Once she got the Alliance agent on Horizon onboard, she stood a fighting chance of bringing the entire operation firmly under her control. From there, they could ditch the Cerberus crew, and take down the Collectors on  _ her  _ terms. A feral grin threatened to split her face. Everything was coming up Shepard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> show of hands: who else was disappointed when they couldn't just hang up on TIM? shep did it all the time in me1 to the council, and they were just jerks, not bigoted maniacs
> 
> thanks for reading!


	11. Garrus

When he finally came to, Chakwas was there.

 

‘A fine mess you are, Garrus,’ she groused, her bedside manner apparently remaining unchanged over the past two years. ‘Malnourished. Sleep deprived. How many stims you took in the past week, the good Lord only knows. And that’s before taking a  _ rocket  _ to the right side of your face.’ 

 

A  _ rocket?  _ No way he survived that. This was the afterlife, then. He was sorry Karin was here, but there were worse friends to greet you upon death. He looked around, searching the corners of the room for his squadmates, flicked his mandibles wide in a smile--

 

\--and then stifled a scream. It felt like a magma scuttler was trying to claw it’s way out of his face. Clearly, he was not dead. 

 

He must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, Chakwas was at his side, filling a needle from a vial. ‘I should have warned you, Garrus, don’t move your mandible and jaw too quickly. You’re liable to do severe, lasting damage if you do. You have to wait for the semi-permanent bandage to set before I can administer more dextrampohine. No talking for the next…’ She threw a glance at her wristwatch. ‘Three hours.’

 

‘Three  _ hours _ ?’ he asked, eliciting a glare from Chakwas and another wave of agony from his mandible. 

 

‘ _ Three hours _ ,’ she repeated, her tone firm and full of do-not-even-think-of-complaining. ‘This is a painkiller. It will help, some, but  _ only if you keep your mandible and jaw immobile _ . I could put you back under, but quite honestly, you slept unmedicated for almost twenty hours, and if I know you, you have a veritable avalanche of questions. Arm, please.’

 

He obediently stuck his arm out to her, forcing himself not to ask aloud the questions thrumming in his chest as she worked the needle into the hide of the crook of his elbow.  Where was he? How was he alive? And the biggest question of all: why was Chakwas running around with Not-Shepard?

 

She must have seen the questions in his eyes, because she thrust a datapad into his talons. ‘Ask away, Garrus.’

 

As he was typing, a disembodied voice floated through the medbay. ‘Doctor Chakwas, Commander Shepard asked to be notified when Officer Vakarian was awake. She is resting in her quarters. Shall I wake and inform her?’

 

‘Absolutely not, EDI, she's been awake far too long and needs her sleep.’ Chakwas turned a wary eye towards Garrus, reading the queries he’d already typed on his datapad.  _ Who is Not-Shepard? Why are they impersonating Shepard? Why are you with them?  _ ‘And I think Garrus and I have some catching up to do before he’s ready to see any guests.’

 

‘Acknowledged. Be advised, I will most likely not be able to keep the truth from her upon her awakening.’

 

Chakwas sighed. ‘Oh, I have no doubt she’ll come barging in when she finds out. Thank you, EDI.’

 

‘Logging you out.’

 

He typed one more question, then handed the pad to Chakwas. ‘Who is--oh, EDI. She’s the ship’s AI.  _ Don’t speak _ , Garrus,’ she added at his indignant squawk. ‘Shepard was quite mistrustful at first, too. But I think she’s starting to come to like her. We all are, even Jeff, despite his insistence otherwise.’

 

He poked the datapad, furiously tapping the first two questions. Who is Not-Shepard. Why are they impersonating Shepard.

 

She set the datapad down on his legs, moving to check the bandage encasing his mandible. ‘She  _ is  _ Shepard, Garrus. And none of that Not-Shepard nonsense around her, you hear? I rather suspect she’s having trouble believing it herself. When she found out I was onboard, she ran down here and demanded a full battery of tests run on her. DNA, dental record examinations, psych eval, the works. It took us five hours, but I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is Shepard.’

 

He snatched up the datapad, wrote a new question, and almost flung it at Chakwas.

 

‘How do I know?’ Chakwas rubbed at her temple, collapsing into a chair beside Garrus’ bed. ‘The first question she asked me, Garrus. ‘ _ Did the crew make it out alive? _ ’ And she cried when she learned of the 20 crew members who didn’t. Just like she cried for Jenkins and Williams. Not to mention, I served as her doctor and confidant for almost a year. It’s easy to fake how someone looks, easy to teach them backstories, easy to fool officials into believing you’re someone else. It’s not so easy to fool a close friend.’ She placed the datapad back in his talons. ‘Go on, I know you’re bound to have more questions.’

 

His talon hesitated over the interface. He certainly did have more questions, but it was difficult to prioritize which one was most important at the moment. If Shepard was real, how did she survive Alchera? Why hadn’t she come forward sooner? Why was there an AI embedded in this ship, and why was nobody doing anything about it? How did they track him down on Omega? Was the krogan who’d accompanied Shepard really only three days old?

 

A flash of yellow and black caught his eye, and a new question manifested in his mind as he recognized the icon emblazoned on Chakwas’ uniform. He tapped it out, slowly handing the pad to Chakwas, dreading the answer he’d receive. Her expression grew tight as she read. 

 

_ What does Cerberus have to do with this? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrus /finally/ catches on that Shepard is real, god bless his ding-dong heart.
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	12. Shepard

‘Good morning, Commander. I took the liberty of clearing your schedule while you slept, but there is a matter that demands your attention.’

 

Shepard groaned, burying her face in her pillow. ‘Ugggggggh. Can’t Lawson at least wait until I’ve had coffee for the debrief?’

 

‘You slept for thirteen and a quarter hours, Commander. I expressed my concern to Dr. Chakwas, but she insisted I let you sleep, citing your recent mission and subsequent vigil over the med-bay as ‘proof that fool woman needs rest’.’ EDI paused. ‘As I mentioned before, there is also a... _ situation _ . In the medical bay.’

 

Her lingering sleepiness evaporated instantly, boiled off by the shock of adrenaline. She sat straight up, flinging herself off the bed and stubbing her toe as she grabbed the nearest shirt to yank on over her sleep tank. ‘Situation?! Is it Garrus? Were there complications? What’s--’

 

‘Officer Vakarian is in excellent physical health, considering his recent escapades. He is, however, quite distressed over being on board a Cerberus ship.’

 

Shepard limped up the stairs leading to the upper half of the loft, her wounded toe throbbing with each step. ‘The feeling’s mutual,’ she mumbled, kneeling to peer under her desk. ‘How upset is he? We talking ‘oh-shit-I-hate-Cerberus’ upset? Or ‘I’m-going-to-kill-everyone-on-board’ upset? This is Garrus we’re talking about, it can go either way.’ She sat back on her haunches, craning her neck to look back down beside her bed. ‘Also, where are my boots?’

 

‘Your boots are in the bathroom,’ replied EDI, somehow combining professional tones with mild exasperation. ‘And Officer Vakarian is expressing a desire to leave the ship, but has not issued threats against the crew. Thus far.’

 

‘Thus far,’ echoed Shepard, tugging her boots on. ‘Tell Lawson I’ll be in shortly, but I gotta meet with Garrus first.’

 

‘She is already in the medical bay.’

 

Shepard fought the urge to slap her forehead, then lost the battle and did it anyways. ‘Why in the name of all things holy is Lawson in the medbay?’

 

‘She said she needed to complete her report to the Illusive Man, and that she refuses to talk to the krogan asset. She tried getting a report from Dr. Solus, but could not, and I quote, ‘make sense of the stream of consciousness.’’

 

‘Glad to know it’s not just me.’ Shepard huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘Okay. I assume Lawson is not helping the ‘Garrus Hates Cerberus’ situation. Ping Chakwas, let her know I’m on my way down to defuse the bomb in her medbay.’ 

 

‘Done. Is there anything else I can help you with? Finding pants, perhaps?’

 

‘What?’ She glanced down. Oh, shit, she was still in her underwear. ‘Uh. I think I can manage that. Thanks.’

 

‘Logging you out.’ Shepard swore she could hear a hint of smugness in EDI’s usual signoff, but she wasn’t sure.

 

When she stepped onto the crew deck, she could hear both human and turian voices yelling from all the way over by the elevator. The usually bustling mess hall was empty; even Gardner had abandoned his usual post. The only soul in sight was Jack, nursing a steaming cup as she gnawed on a bagel. ‘Hey, girl scout,’ she drawled, dunking a chunk of bagel into her drink. ‘Cheerleader’s been screaming for a bit now. Scared everyone else off.’

 

‘And you’re not bothered by it?’

 

‘Shit, no. Means I get the mess to myself. And a free show.’ Jack smirked, popping the bagel piece into her mouth. 

 

‘Yeah, sorry, I’m going to have to make ‘em quit fighting. Bad for morale.’ Shepard turned, braced herself, and opened the medbay’s hatch.

 

Judging by the steady flow of turian curses and the slight blue glow swirling around Lawson’s fingers, EDI had severely downplayed the situation. Chakwas seemed unaffected by the argument raging around her, serenely scribbling notes on a datapad. ‘Shepard,’ she said, her voice a calm oasis amidst the storm. ‘How was your sleep?’

 

‘Fine, thank you, Doctor. Can you give us the room?’

 

Chakwas nodded, gathering a few pads and sweeping out of the medbay. By now, both Garrus and Lawson had fallen silent, although the biotic halo around Lawson remained, as did Garrus’ discontented rumblings. At least Shepard thought they were discontented. Her shiny new Cerberus implants let her hear turian subvocals now, but she still had no idea what they meant. ‘Lawson, lose the biotics. Would you idiots care to explain what’s got both of you so worked up you evacuated the entire mess?’

 

Garrus started first. ‘Shepard, I just want to leave--’

 

She cut him off with an upraised hand, noting to herself that he was calling her ‘Shepard’ instead of ‘impersonator’. A start. ‘EDI has already informed me that you would like to leave. We can arrange that when we get to Horizon, but I’d like to talk things over with you before you walk away for good.’

 

‘Commander, that is unacceptable,’ said Lawson, her usually brisk tone twisted with indignation. ‘He’s seen too much of the Normandy, we can’t just cut him loose. And we need him for the mission.’

 

_ ‘What  _ mission?’ snapped Garrus, his subvocals growing sharp and gravelly. ‘Nobody’s told me  _ shit  _ about any missions! From where I’m standing, I’ve been kidnapped and gangpressed into service by an  _ actual terrorist organization _ \--’

 

‘I keep telling you, the cells you encountered two years ago are  _ not tied to us _ ,’ snapped Lawson, her biotics flaring again as she jabbed a finger at Garrus. 

 

‘He has a point,’ Shepard said mildly. ‘And I won’t repeat myself, Operative Lawson,  _ lose the biotics _ .’ After the blue swirls had faded from the other woman’s body, Shepard crossed her arms. ‘Garrus is my perogative. You manage the Cerberus crew, but the fire team is  _ mine _ . If I want to cut him loose, I cut him loose. But you should know, Lawson, this is not a matter of putting my feelings before the mission. I need everybody fully committed to this endeavor.’

 

‘Shepard--’

 

‘Lawson, do you seriously think that having a compromised sniper on your fire team is a good idea? We are not going to hold people on this ship against their will. It’s unethical and wrong, but besides that, a stupid fucking idea. End of fucking discussion. I will be in your quarters shortly for the Omega debrief, you are  _ dismissed _ .’ 

 

There was a muffled ‘OHHHHHHHHHHHH!’ from the other side of the glass running the length of the medbay, and Shepard turned to see Jack, a chesire grin pasted across her impish face as she cackled gleefully at Lawson’s expense. 

 

‘Jack, go down to your room,’ Shepard barked, shooing her away from the window.

 

‘Okay,  _ Mom _ ,’ Jack shot back, sauntering away towards the elevator and flipping Lawson off as their paths crossed.

 

Shepard sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. ‘The things I put up with. The universe doesn’t contain enough patience to deal with these fools.’

 

‘No worse than Tali and Wrex’s fights,’ intoned Garrus, his subvocals dropping to a low buzz. 

 

She shot him a quizzical look. ‘What do you mean? Tali and Wrex were thick as thieves. You could hardly separate the two between ground missions, especially after Wrex taught her how to handle a shotg--oh. I see what you’re doing. Did I pass your test?’ 

 

‘You passed  _ a _ test, yes,’ he said, his voice mild. ‘Chakwas is very convinced you’re the real Shepard. But I need more than her word.’ His head cocked, his uninjured mandible canted away from his face. ‘I’d also like to know why you’ve thrown your lot in with Cerberus. The  _ literal terrorist organization _ with your squad’s blood dripping from their claws.’

 

Shepard ran a hand through her hair. God, she wished it were longer. Lawson had cut it at some point during her Doctor Frankenstein routine, and she was still not used to not being able to pull it back into a ponytail. ‘Yeah, well, you woke up on a Cerberus ship full of Cerberus crew and with a body full of Cerberus tech. Guess we got that in common.’ She leaned against Chakwa’s computer station, doing her best not to accidentally knock off any important equipment. ‘Anderson and the Council know where I am,’ she said softly.

 

Garrus tucked his mandible closer to his jaw. ‘They do?’

 

‘They do,’ she replied. ‘They don’t approve, but they know. Visited them, last week. Had to go pick up Kasumi, figured I’d stop in and let the old man know I wasn’t dead. Maybe even...I wanted to turn the Normandy over to the Alliance. Have ‘em strip it down, rebuild it, whatever they wanted, just anything to get out from under Cerberus.’

 

‘But you haven’t,’ he prompted.

 

‘I haven’t. Because I saw how the Council reacted when I told them why Cerberus resurrected me in the first place. And I knew the Alliance brass would take it just as badly.’ She steeled herself. ‘Garrus, I need you at my six. I don’t care if you trust me, or if you think I’m an imposter, or if you even hate me.’ Something weird flopped over in her gut, and she decided that maybe she would care if he hated her. Just a little. ‘I need your help. We’re in a pit of vipers here, Garrus, and I need someone I trust at my side when I walk into hell.’

 

Garrus sighed. Ran a talon along his crest. Clicked a mandible. ‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘You’re the real Shepard. And you need my help.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘You realize this plan has me walking into hell, too?’

 

She laughed. ‘Just like old times.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [flings glitter] THEY'RE FRIENDS AGAIN! or at the very least acquaintances! now to make them Horny For Each Other >:V
> 
> also spoilers miranda will get nicer at some point
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	13. Garrus

He had a lot of things against them, but Cerberus knew what they were doing when it came to getting people to the surface of planets. In that they didn’t stick people in a tank and drop them from low orbit like the Alliance did. They actually had  _ shuttles  _ for the ground crew, thank the spirits. ‘No more Mako, I see.’

 

Shepard grinned from her seat across from him. ‘Aw, you’ll be begging for the Mako when you meet the Garbage Truck. Even _ I _ know I can’t pilot that thing worth shit.’

 

Jack groaned, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, jostling Garrus’ elbow. ‘That’s such a shitty name, Shepard. You shoulda nicknamed the Hammerhead something cool like ‘Sharknado’ or ‘Deathpunch’.’

 

‘Yeah, well, ‘Deathpunch’ is reserved for vehicles that don’t malfunction when a geth drone so much as looks at them. Garbage Truck’s a perfect name, because it’s a fucking garbage vehicle that doesn’t even have an omnigel interface to patch it up when it breaks.’

 

He wrinkled his nose, only wincing slightly when his wounded mandible flicked. Chakwas had done a hell of a job patching him up, considering what he’d gone through, and in the two days that had passed since Omega, the fire in his mandible had died down to a dull ache. ‘Omnigel hasn’t been a viable thing since some salarian prodigy invented an encryption immune to it.’

 

‘I’ve got fucking some words for them. I’ve had so much trouble trying to hack doors these days, I don’t have the time to whip out a soldering gun every time a bad guy locks a door behind them. I’m dead for two years, and even the  _ doors  _ fucking changed.’ 

 

Jack squinted at Shepard. ‘So. I assume there’s a good reason we’re going down to this backwater colony?’ 

 

Shepard clapped her hands, rubbing them together as she shifted in her seat. ‘Yep. Here’s the plan. Our lord on high Illusive Man wants us to see if there’s a viable, widespread defense against the Collectors.’

 

‘Right,’ said Garrus, struggling to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He had no doubts in his mind that Shepard believed the Collectors were the agents behind the disappearance of the numerous missing colonists, but he still thought that there was something more to it all. 

 

‘So,’ continued Shepard, ‘we’re going down to talk with the engineers onsite to see if Solus’ shielding can be applied to a larger area. Solus is already dirtside, as are Taylor and Grunt. Taylor’s going to be talking logistics and tactics with the local militia leaders, and Grunt’s doing heavy lifting for Mordin and the colony’s engineers. Goto and Massani will follow us down on the next shuttle trip and go over the more mundane aspects of Horizon’s security.’ Shepard paused, her amber eyes serious. ‘If we’re down there and the Collectors attack before Solus’ security measures are installed, do everything you can to protect the colonists down there.’

 

‘Noticed that Cheerleader’s not on the ground crew,’ said Jack, picking her teeth with a lacquered nail. 

 

‘Lawson’s staying on the Normandy to coordinate supply drops,’ replied Shepard, but Garrus recognized the not-saying-everything buried in her tone. 

 

‘Cool,’ said Jack. ‘Glad to have Miss Perfect outta my hair.’

 

‘You don’t have hair,’ said Garrus, staring bemusedly at Jack’s shaved head.

 

‘It’s an idiom. Means to stop annoying someone, get out of their presence.’ Shepard stretched her arms and arched her back, grimacing. Apparently these seats were uncomfortable for humans, too, and not just him.

 

‘Oh, like ‘out from under my plates.’’

 

‘You guys are such nerds,’ laughed Jack. ‘So, Shepard. What’s our jobs?’

 

Shepard hesitated for a fraction of a second.  _ Oh _ , Garrus thought.  _ She really  _ is  _ up to something down there if she doesn’t immediately have a plan for us. _ ‘Jack, I want you rounding up the biotics, and I want you to assess how well they’ll be able to defend themselves when the Collectors come.’

 

‘Is that why I’m wearing  _ this _ ?’ Jack plucked at the light kevlar vest in question. ‘Make me more respectable?’

 

‘No, you’re wearing that because wandering around with nothing but a harness covering your tits is goddamn stupid and’ll get you killed. Your barrier deflects bullets, but it won’t stop a slow-moving objects like knives or teeth. I know you run hot, I’m biotic too. But you need something on your torso besides belts, Jack.’ Shepard turned to Garrus. ‘Garrus, you’re going to be shadowing me. I need to assess your skills, see how rusty you’ve gotten these past two years.’ 

 

‘I’m wounded you think I’m rusty.’ He hoped the sarcasm would cover up the fact he actually was a little offended that Shepard thought that he might have slipped a few notches over the years. ‘Who’s the Alliance operative down there? Anybody we know?’

 

Shepard chuckled humorlessly. ‘Oh, to be that lucky. No clue, we’ve only spoken to the colony’s governor. Apparently, the Alliance operative put up quite a fuss when they heard Cerberus was muscling in on their colony.’

 

Jack snorted. ‘Do you blame them?’

 

‘No, I can’t say as I do,’ sighed Shepard, looking out the shuttle’s viewport. ‘Can’t say as I do.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't pout, jack, shep's just trying to look after you
> 
> also stuff was AU to start with, but it's moving into /Super Duper/ AU territory now
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	14. Shepard

Horizon was fucking beautiful.

 

The sky was a bright blue, only a few shades redder than Earth’s, marbled with a few scattered clouds. Birdsong--holy shit,  _ birdsong,  _ they had  _ birds  _ here--filled the air as Shepard craned her neck upward, staring through the local foliage at the half-finished GARDIAN tower. She gave a low whistle. ‘Damn, I always forget how big GARDIAN stuff is. Never seen a ground tower up close, only ship-mounted cannons. Stuff tends to lose it’s scale in space.’

 

‘If only it fuckin’ worked,’ growled Owen Delan, pushing his cap back on his head. ‘That damned Alliance fella they sent’s been dragging his heels ever since he heard you was comin’.’ The mechanic snorted derisively. ‘Now that you’re here, though, you can help us get the thing working.’

 

‘That’s certainly on the agenda,’ Shepard replied, returning her attention to the ground. Grunt was hauling a crate of parts to the platform surrounding the GARDIAN tower, where Mordin was hunched over a pile of scrap, no doubt talking a mile a minute to himself as he worked. ‘But first, we need to discuss the viability of implementing Dr. Solus’ shielding on a colony-wide level. You only have the one city thus far, yes?’

 

‘Yeah, just Freedomville,’ he grunted, crossing his arms. ‘And the shielding he’s building s’posed to protect us from...Collectors. Ain’t they fake?’

 

‘Your town is seriously called Freedomville?’ Shepard couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice.  _ ‘Freedomville _ .’

 

Delan shrugged. ‘Our first governor sucked at names, apparently. Prob’ly why he got voted out after one term. But Collectors? I thought you were Council-funded, Missy. Collectors are the Bogeymen story the Council uses to scare people out of the Terminus.’

 

‘Boogermen?’ echoed Garrus from his perch on top of a picnic table behind Shepard and Delan. He’d tried sitting on the bench earlier, but his spurs had gotten tangled beneath the seat, so now he was sitting on the table itself. 

 

‘Yeah, Bogeymen. Ain’t nobody believe in the Collectors here but snot-nosed brats who need stories to scare ‘em into eating their veggies and doing their chores.’ Delan glared at a gaggle of kids standing at the edge of the courtyard, staring at the proceedings. ‘Speakin’ of which, I gotta go scare  _ those  _ little snot-nosed brats off. Be back in a second. HEY! QUIT LOITERIN’! YEAH, RACHEL, I MEAN  _ YOU! _ ’

 

‘Shepard, what is a Boogerman?’ She turned to see Garrus had his head cocked thoughtfully. 

 

‘Oh. Uh, they’re a monster. Usually live under kid’s beds, scare ‘em into behaving. ‘Eat your vegetables or the Bogeyman will get you!’ That sort of stuff.’ His eyes narrowed in thought, and she punched his shoulder lightly. ‘What, turians don’t have scary monsters that keep their kids in line?’

 

‘Well, yeah, but our monsters are called Nakala. Closest translation is, uh...scale-stealers, I think? They live in the woods and sewers and come out at night to steal the plates off of naughty turian children’s backs. But at least they have a  _ dignified  _ name. We certainly don’t call them  _ snotmen _ ,’ he scoffed.

 

Her sudden laughter took both her and Garrus by surprise.  _ ‘Snotmen _ ?’ she wheezed between giggles. ‘Oh my god, Garrus, that’s the best interspecies language fuckup I’ve ever heard in my  _ life _ .  _ Snotmen _ , holy  _ shit _ .’ 

 

‘Delan said--you said Boogermen,’ he protested above her peals of laughter. ‘Turians don’t have snot, that’s a human thing, my translator must have glitched on your weird monster name.’

 

‘I’m--I’m sorry,’ she gasped between laughs. ‘I just--I can’t stop _ laughing _ \--’

 

And then, to her total and utter embarrassment, she snorted. God, she hadn’t snorted while laughing since she was a teen, what the fuck was wrong with her?

 

‘Did you just--’

 

‘NO,’ she gasped, her giggles finally dying down. ‘No, I most fucking certainly did not, and if you want me to buy any shitty mods for your shitty travesty of a rifle, you won’t tell anyone what I most fucking certainly did not just do.’

 

‘Too late,’ came Kasumi’s voice, sing-songing from a patch of glimmering air to the right of Garrus. She uncloaked and clambered onto the picnic table’s bench, a smirk stretched across what little of her face was visible. ‘I got the whole thing on video.’ 

 

‘Kasumi,’ Shepard said, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. ‘Please don’t share that with anyone.’

 

‘Oh, Shep, you know I’m hanging on to this for blackmail.’ The thief propped her chin up on steepled hands. ‘Anyways, Zaeed and I did a lap around the perimeter. This place has  _ terrible  _ security. No walls, no fences or gates, lots of gaps between the automated turrets on the perimeter. Sensors are four years out of date, very easy to fool. And nobody has real windows, just holes in the walls of their prefabs. It’s a thief's dream come true.’ She sighed. ‘Or it would be, if there were anything worth stealing here.’

 

‘Let’s hope the Collectors also think there’s nothing worth stealing here,’ Shepard replied darkly. ‘From what Taylor told me, none of these yahoos know how to hold a gun, much less fight off an invasion with one. And Jack reports there’s only two biotics in the whole colony, both under ten. The Collectors don’t even need their weird little bugs, they can just waltz in here and take these people whenever they want.’

 

‘All the more reason to get that GARDIAN tower up and running,’ said Garrus, scratching the back of his neck.

 

‘Yes, that should be a priority.’ Lawson almost sashayed up to the table, her Cerberus uniform glimmering in the afternoon sunlight. ‘If they can’t land here at the colony, they may pass over Horizon entirely. The GARDIAN tower is vital to the colony’s defense.’ 

 

Shepard ground her teeth. Lawson was here. Fuck, she’d been banking on the Cerberus agent staying aboard the Normandy. ‘Hello, Lawson. Thought you were coordinating supply drops.’

 

Lawson smiled, a predator’s grin behind pearly white teeth. ‘Oh, Shepard, we have all we need here on the ground. The governor informed me they have a lovely fabricating unit in the garage, and they recently got a large shipment of raw materials. As the Cerberus liaison with the government here, I am needed groundside.’

 

_ Well, shit. _ Shepard’s plan to rally her troops and start concocting ways to fuck Cerberus over just flew straight out the window. ‘And your expertise is welcome. Can you start talking evacuation plans with the governor? If the Collectors show up, things are liable to get ugly pretty fucking fast.’

 

A shadow crossed Lawson’s face, and Shepard realized the Illusive Man must have clued Lawson in on his order to leave Horizon to their fate at the Collector’s hands. Well, it was Lawson’s move. Admit to Shepard that evacuation wasn’t on the menu, while an already suspicious and proven deadly turian sniper looked on? Or play along for now? ‘I’ll get in contact with her as soon as possible,’ said Lawson cooly, apparently choosing the latter of the two options.

 

‘Good,’ said Shepard, and locked eyes with Lawson. ‘Do you know where I can find that Alliance operative? Garrus and I can work with them to get that GARDIAN tower ready.’

 

‘Holed up on the south edge of town,’ came Delan’s voice as he sidled back up to the group. ‘I hear he’s bunking with Lilith these days. I can send the navpoint for her prefab to your tool, gimme a sec.’

 

It took almost an hour of wandering around in a circle to find the front door to Lilith’s home. Shepard knocked, wincing at how heavy and demanding her knock sounded. Armored gauntlets don’t make for gentle knocks, she supposed. ‘Miss Lilith? We’re looking for the Alliance operative assigned to Horizon. We hear he hangs out with you, we need to talk to him about getting the GARDIAN tower online.’

 

Garrus sidled up beside her, his voice a murmur. ‘Infrared reads two body heat signatures. Where’s your visor, by the way? Thought you had one on Omega.’

 

‘Did. Gave me a monster headache. And I don’t need it now that you’re here to tell me stuff like ‘infrared reads two blah blah blah’.’ She nudged him in the side with an elbow. ‘Thanks for being my weird visor information guy. Can’t wait to hear more shit like ‘Shepard, your heart rate just picked up, are you ok?’’

 

‘Mm. They definitely heard us. Should we bash down the door?’

 

‘Most people just. You know. Knock again. It’s not exactly like we’re chasing down a bad guy, G. No need to go in guns blazing.’ He shot her a weird look. ‘Ok, message received, G is not a good nickname. We’ll find one for you yet.’

 

‘Yeah, you keep saying that. After ‘Garry’ and ‘G-Man’ didn’t stick--oh, wait, one of them’s coming. Act natural.’

 

‘’Act natural?’ Wow, Garrus, I think that’s the most incredibly fucking cliche thing I’ve ever heard you say,’ Shepard hissed, just as the door swung open. ‘Hi, we need to talk to you about--oh. Ohhh, my god.’

 

‘Hello, Shepard,’ said Kaiden Alenko, his usually warm brown eyes narrowed with distrust. ‘You’re absolutely right. We need to talk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, kasumi, don't you know it's rude to record people without asking permission?
> 
> also i wrote like 5000 words today. depression is a helluva drug, yall
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	15. Garrus

The shock of suddenly meeting Kaidan Alenko on Horizon was nothing next to the confusion Garrus felt when Shepard abruptly yanked her glove off. She tore her omnitool’s interface ring from her finger, turned, and hurled it as far as she could away from the prefab. And then reached for his talon, unclasping his gauntlet. ‘Wh--no, Shepard, I need my omn--’

 

‘It’s Cerberus issue,’ she snapped, her blunt fingernails scrabbling at the material of his glove. ‘Lose it. We don’t want them listening in.’

 

‘Okay, okay, give me a second.’ As he worked to get the interface ring off, Kaidan watched them both with narrowed eyes. ‘Uh, hi, Kaidan. Long time, no see. That is--that is the expression, right?’

 

‘She died and you disappeared,’ Alenko grunted, leaning against the doorframe of the prefab. His weight was settled squarely, and his entire body language sang of threatened violence. Garrus knew that Kaidan didn't need to engage either of them physically if it came to blows; he'd seen what the man could do with biotics. ‘And now you’re both working for Cerberus.’

 

‘We’re not--’ Shepard paused, grabbed the ring now free from Garrus’ talon, and sent it spiraling into the alleyway behind them. ‘We’re not working for Cerberus, Kaidan, not willingly.’ She took a deep breath, her amber gaze flashing in the setting sun as she stared Alenko directly in his eyes. ‘Kaidan, I understand if you don’t trust me. Hell, were the situation reversed, I wouldn’t trust you either. But please, Kaidan, at least hear us out.’

 

Alenko’s frown grew deeper. Then he sighed, and jerked his head at Shepard and Garrus. ‘Fine. Come on in.’

 

Garrus ducked his head as they passed through the low doorway. Generally, human doors were more than tall enough to accomodate turians, but human prefabs were always a touch smaller than standard housing. There was a slight human hovering by the door leading to the kitchen, eyes wide and following their every move. ‘Kaidan,’ she said, not quite asking the question in her voice.

 

‘It’s fine, Lilith, they just want to talk. Hey, why don’t you take a walk over to Jonah’s place? I’m sure your dad would love to talk your ear off about these new Cerberus visitors of ours.’ Alenko’s reassuring tone seemed to do nothing to ease the worry in Lilith’s eyes as she slipped past Garrus and out the front door.

 

‘Seems like a nice girl,’ Shepard commented. ‘If maybe a bit too willing to be tossed out of her own house so some some absurdly heavily armed strangers can have a private conversations.’

 

Alenko barked a short, harsh laugh. ‘Well, it’s kinda my house, too. Been living with her for three weeks now.’ He threaded his fingers through his dark hair, ruffling the usually smooth tresses. ‘So. You’re the real Shepard, according to the Alliance reports. And I doubt Garrus would be following you around if you were a phony.’

 

Garrus clamped down on his subvocals before he could trill his shock. Alenko had accepted Shepard’s return from the dead based on his presence? ‘Yeah,’ he said out loud. ‘Took me a bit to come around, but she’s the real Shepard. Not quite sure why she’s running with Cerberus, though. Got the boilerplate ‘here’s our mission’ bit, but she’s not really explained why she hasn’t just shown the Illusive Man her bird and turned everything over to the Council.’

 

‘The gesture is called ‘giving the bird’, Garrus, and the Council isn’t going to do shit about the Collectors.’ Shepard was looking at Garrus when she replied, and didn’t notice Alenko stiffening suddenly at her mention of the Collectors. ‘They say it’s ‘out of my jurisdiction as a Spectre’ and when I tried to bring up the Reapers, Sparatus made fucking  _ air quotes _ at me. He doesn’t have enough fingers to pull if off properly, but it’s the insulting thought that counts.’ 

 

‘So you’re defecting for resources,’ said Alenko, his voice dark and accusing.

 

‘I’m not--Kaidan,  _ they have Jeff _ .’ Her voice cracked, and Garrus saw desperation flash across her face for a split second. ‘They have Jeff, and they have Karin, too. Chakwas suspects she’s there to keep me in line, I think, but Joker? I don’t think he realizes that he’s a hostage. And make no mistake, Kaidan, they are  _ absolutely  _ hostages, and the second I step too far out of line, one of the two of them will meet an untimely death.’

 

Garrus clicked his mandibles, concern sweeping through him. ‘So unless you can get both Joker and Chakwas off the Normandy at the same time, there’s no way you can shake yourself free from their grip.’

 

‘And there’s no way that they’re going to let that happen,’ said Alenko slowly. ‘Sounds like you’re up a creek without a paddle, Commander.’

 

‘At the moment, yeah. But I’m working on it. And Cerberus is making a dumb mistake. They’re giving me a chance to build a team with people from the outside. An attempt to win me over, I’m sure, but at this point I have at least two people on the fire team with a deep and unending hatred for Cerberus. One of whom recently took a rocket to the face and survived.’

 

‘Is that what happened to your face, big guy? Damn, wish I’d been there to see that fight,’ Alenko laughed.

 

Garrus’ mouth suddenly flooded with a bitter wash of stim pills and smoke, his chest grew tight, his vision blurred. Spirits, the mercenaries kept streaming over the barricade, like phantoms coming for his soul, and he could barely speak as he called his father for the last time before he--

 

‘Garrus?’ A pressure on his uncovered talon, firm and warm and real. Eyes the color of the Palaven dawn, burnished bronze, filled with concern. Shepard was here. Shepard was here on Horizon, and so was he. Not in that apartment. Not in the tomb of his squadmates. ‘Hey, Garrus, breathe. Breathe.’ 

 

‘I--uh--’

 

‘Easy, easy. You blanked on us for a bit. Didn’t know turians could hyperventilate like that.’ She was squatting next to him on the floor of the prefab, Alenko nowhere in sight. Shit, when had he ended up on the floor? How long had he been on Omega? ‘I’m sending you back up to the Normandy, gonna have Chakwas go back over you.’

 

‘No,’ he gasped, yanking his talon from her grasp. ‘No. No, I’m solid. I’m good. I...I just went...back to Omega for a bit.’

 

‘Flashback.’ Shepard nodded. ‘I had a bunch after Akuze. And every time one happened, I went and saw a psychologist. So instead of sending you up to the Normandy to talk to Chakwas, I’m going to get Chambers down here to talk to you.’

 

Garrus grunted, using the couch next to him to lever himself to his feet. ‘Chambers? The yeoman who’s constantly lurking in the CIC?’

 

‘Yeah, the CIC lurker.’ She stood, grabbing his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. ‘She’s annoying, and I hate how she thinks she’s gotta tell me every time I get a new notification, but she’s got a finger on the pulse of the crew, and she’s more than happy to listen to whatever you’ve got to say about Omega. Talk. To. Chambers.’

 

He snapped his mandibles close to his face. ‘Shepard, I don’t want to discuss Omega with--’

 

‘And I don’t want you disassociating in the field,’ Shepard snapped. ‘That’s a good way to end up with a ground team full of corpses, Vakarian. You will talk to Chambers. And until she clears you for combat, you won’t so much as calibrate a gun, you understand?’

 

Garrus swallowed nervously. He had absolutely no desire to talk with anyone about Omega, especially not the chipper, bouncy yeoman who constantly chirped updates at him about his personal mail. But Shepard’s jaw was clenched, and he wasn’t about to argue against an order from her. ‘Understood. I’ll talk to Chambers.’

 

Shepard relaxed, sighing as she released his shoulders to rub the back of her neck. ‘Good. I’m going to go call Chambers, and then talk with Kaidan about the GARDIAN tower. But first I gotta find my omnitool. In the dark. Because I didn’t pay attention to where I threw it, like an idiot.’ A brief, tired smile flitted across her face, and she punched his arm lightly. ‘See you later, space cowboy.’

 

‘Nah, that nickname doesn’t work either.’

 

‘Rats. We’ll get there.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shepard: [chunks her omnitool] YEET
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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